


A Mask in Court

by SummoningMutations



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Medieval AU, Multi, Threesome, king!sal, knight!travis, magician!larry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummoningMutations/pseuds/SummoningMutations
Summary: Travis will fight for his King.No matter the price.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson, Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson/Travis Phelps, Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	1. A Battle Won

The air stung his throat like fire whiskey and the spice of death. Travis’s brow was a sheen of sweat, dripping from his temple. The silver of metal armor flashed in front of him, and he didn’t even have to think. He slashed at the air with his sword. There was nothing that could stop him. He had marched across acres and acres of battle-seen land. Bodies littered the grass, blood staining the dirt red. He’d waded through a sea of heads, seen limbs spread amongst other limbs, connecting only with the earth. Bone and gore had a smell, and he was very familiar with it by now.

His King had ordered him onward, past the enemies camp and into the city that the rebel groups called home. He leads a league of ten thousand men past the front lines, past the archers and the knights and the generals. He’d lead his man through a macabre field of death and decay only to arrive at the rebels’ city, where they bred and lived. Where they no doubt sat and broke fast. Where they taught and told stories to their youngest. Where the lords sat and discussed the best way to overthrow the one true king of the realm.

His Liege had ordered him to burn it. Take a torch and set flame to the home. “Let Hell reclaim that place.” The words of his king echoed in his head. He remembered those eyes, alight and passionate, as he sat upon his throne. Red silks adorned him; the finest of clothes for his Highness. Still, no matter how he tried to hide under those pretty cloths, his Kingsman could see it. The resentment that hid under those eyes, the fierceness. The traitors who dared cross him would surely see their fiery end soon. He’d make sure of it. For his King.

Screams sounded like music to his ears as he marched further into the city. He men were flanking him, keeping away the burly knights who swung their broadsword likes it was an ax. These men had no training, not as he did, and certainly not like the men who guarded him.

He marched up the steps of the castle as if he already owned them. He was tasked with something by his King, something more specific, something only he could do. His job was to eliminate the family that dared rebel against the one and only King. The family that dared fund this pathetic excuse of a revolt. “I want all of them gone. Not a man, woman, or screaming infant left who would follow in their footsteps. We need to make an example of this house.”

And so he marched through the halls of the palace, slaughtering everyone who came across his path. Blood was his new perfume. He hoped his King would like it.

___

He walked into the throne room, his once black armor now swathed in red like a surreal painting. He wore his hair down, showing the mud and blood that had soaked into like it was a medal. He sported a cut through his brow, one that would surely leave a scar. He didn’t mind scars. They just proved that he was loyal to his King, and would remain loyal until he died.

His blood had dried, and he could no longer taste the iron that coated his throat. The halls of the Palace were familiar. They tasted like summer grass and sweet wine. The ride home had been slow going. The crows had been sent with messages, but he couldn’t wait to kneel in front of his Liege and tell them that the advances to disintegrate the rebel forces was a success. He wanted to tell him how he’d done everything he’d been asked, and he wanted to see the look on his face as he congratulated them on a battle well fought.

The stained ground and hands might be worth it then.

The gates opened, and Sir Travis led his men into the throne room, and there he was. In all his glory, the King sat on his throne like he was always meant to be there. He wore his ceremonial armor, and even from this distance, Travis could see rings flashing brightly on each of his fingers. His face was turned away, and Travis only wished to gaze upon it.

He knelt down in front of his court, arm resting on his knee as he bowed his head. “Your Grace.” His voice was hoarse, and it finally hit him that he was being still. For the first time in what seemed like months, his body had halted, and he could feel the ripples of battle still running through his veins, buzzing in his ears.

His Lord finally looked down upon him, and he could see the scars that graced his face. The scars he received fighting for the throne he now sat on. _The Mutilated King,_ he’d heard the rebels call him, and he’d put a sword through every one of them. His King’s face might be scarred, but he was still the rightful ruler of the realm, and Travis would die for him. That much was given. Soon the people would be calling him _King Sal the Mighty._ Or maybe even _King Sal the Bold._ He wasn’t quite sure which had a better ring to it. The maidens would sing of his victories. The historians would right out his greatest accomplishments. Travis wouldn’t stop until that was his reality.

“Sir Travis,” his King spoke, “rise.”

Travis stood, chin held high with honor. “Your Grace, the rebels forces have been abolished.”

There was a cheer in the court, the Lords and Ladies applauding the victory. He could see the King give a smile, polite and subtle for the court. Travis wanted to see him truly smile, wanted to look at him like he was proud. Travis knew that look, and after the battle, there was nothing more he wanted.

“A feast is in order for your victory, Sir Travis.” King Sal’s voice was polite, simple. There was no emotion behind it. He’d always worn a mask in public, in the eyes of his subjects.

“The honor of this victory is yours, my King,” Travis replied, all the same as polite as the King, wanting not to offend the listening ears that would threaten to use any of their faults against them.

“You bring me my pride, Sir.” King Sal said. Their conversation was a systematic dance. He’d hear what the king would truly say to him that night, behind closed doors and away from the prying eyes of the nobles. He was a part of the Kingsguard, of course. Where else would his place be, if not by the side of his King.

___

He laid bare and sweaty next to Sal, the rhythm of battle as soon forgotten underneath these covers. His king laid beside him, a hand on his chest. Travis wrapped a protective arm around him, daring anything to come near. He hid a dagger under his pillow just in case. There was no reason for the King to be at any risk here, but there was always some part of him that desired to have some form of defense.

“The nobles are whispering again,” Sal said with a heavy sigh, tilting his chin to look up at him. “They say it’s odd I haven’t taken a wife.”

“Damn the nobles. You’re the King.” Travis had no attention span for the gossips that went on in court. His talents were saved for the battlefield and the map room where he’d plan out their attacks. The subtleties of it all were often lost on him. He had no head for that sort of thing, but Sal did. He was as smart as he was brave.

He laughed at Travis’s words, a small laugh. The difference of Sal’s laugh to the songs of screams he’d been listening to earlier was a welcome change, and Travis caught himself wishing that he never had to leave again.

Sal laid his head back down on his lover’s chest. “I am King. You’re right.” He’d started to trace patterns onto Travis’s chest, and the feeling of his rough finger made Travis shiver, making him grip the other man tighter. “But since I am King, the nobles are expecting me to marry soon, to provide an heir.”

The thought of sharing Sal with anyone made Travis grunt in disgust. He knew this would come, sooner or later. Sal sitting the throne with no heir was a good as having a target on his back. No doubt the rebellion would’ve at least been smaller if Sal had joined his house with another powerful one. It didn’t make the thought any easier to bear.

But Travis had to do what was best, and that was to guide his King in a direction that would mean absolute success. “Perhaps the whispers of the nobles have merit.”

Sal groaned unhappily. “Not you, too.”

Travis laughed, leaning down to kiss the top of Sal’s head. “I only mean that an alliance with another house could mean more support for your claim to the throne.”

Sal looked up at him, staring into his eyes, and for a second Travis forgot about everything. He could look into these eyes forever. “Yes, but I’m _sure_ you don’t like the idea of me providing the realm with an _heir.”_

Travis surely _did not_ like the idea of Sal laying sweaty in bed with someone else, sharing that part of himself that Travis only knew. Travis wanted to be the only one, to hold this special secret only known by the two of them. But he’d sworn an oath to his King, and his King had a duty to his country.

“You have a duty, your _Grace,_ ” he said the word like it was poison to be spat out. “If you provide your house with an heir, you’ll only be strengthening your ties to the throne.”

“God’s be good, whoever it is will give me a son after one time.” Sal laid his head back down onto Travis’s chest again, his arms curling around to hug him closer.

One day, Travis might have to part with this man, give his place up for someone more fit to rule beside his King. He’d hate her, but he couldn’t blame her. Whoever she was.


	2. A Priest of the Old Gods

Sal had picked a house to join his to. The Campbell house had a Lady, and they’d graciously accepted the King’s offer of alliance. They were one of the richest houses in the land, with fertile fields that would feed the entire kingdom for the winter. They had more gold in their purse than the Gold Bank across the sea. They were a perfect fit.

The Lady Ashley came with her father and a dozen knights. The wedding was set in a fortnight, and the house had come early to discuss the terms of their alliance. They’d filled his King’s time, keeping him busy in small council meetings. Discussing the politics and fanfare behind the wedding. Who’s invited, how many cooks shall they need, what candles were to be lit.

Travis was sent on his way quickly. He was meant to tend to the guards in the Cambell household. He’d be in charge of training them, getting them fit to rule a queen, for that’s who’d they be guarding. He couldn’t stand being a teacher. He wasn’t built to teach. He prayed these Cambell guards had at least some wits about them. He was sure that a house as wealthy as them wouldn’t undermine an offer as gracious as the one their King has just given them. Surely, they wouldn’t want to disrespect.

He was lucky to learn that all of them seemed to know how to handle a sword at least. They knew nothing of agility, though. They looked like bumbling oafs in their armor, trying to hit him as he dodged their every hit. They’d have to do specific training to build up their muscles, as well as improve their stamina. They seemed to get disoriented if the fight went on too long. Pity.

It was high noon when he noticed a new face among the crowd that had gathered to watch the men train. He’d never seen this person before, he’s sure of it. The man had tattoos running up his neck and across his cheekbones, tribal marks of the Priests of the old Gods. They didn’t worship the old Gods in this Kingdom. His King held firm that the only God was Death, and after they die, there is nothing. _“Nothing but Peace.”_

The Priest’s hair was dark and long, adorned with bells and ringlets and gems. His eyes were shaded with red and purple, and his complexion was glowing under the Summer’s sun. He wore a grey shawl over his silks, a clothing that told of his status, even Travis could figure out. He wore gold necklaces and rings with glittering stones in them. He had two silver bands on his wrist.

He couldn’t even think of a time he had ever seen an Old Priest. He’d read about them, heard stories of their hidden powers, about their ethereal beauty, but he’d never seen one. And yet, here he was, locking eyes with the Priest across the training yard. He’d frozen then, feeling the heat rising on his cheeks. He turned his gaze away as quickly as he’d let it drift. He’d been caught staring.

He tried to focus back on the men he was training to serve his Liege, but he couldn’t help the way his hair pricked up on the back of his neck from time to time. He knew the Priest was looking.

He wasn’t even sure if he knew anything about the old Religion. Could he recite any verses from their script? Did they have a script? He didn’t even understand why he was bothered by it. He held no beliefs, not really. He’d never cared to. Travis would rather choose to live from moment to moment, take life in pieces and react later. Or don’t react at all. He’d never had the time to let himself wonder what came after the trees all fall and land is engulfed in the sea once more.

And when he looked back up, searching for the shawl and wild dark hair, did he notice that the Priest had gone.

___

Later that night, he asked Sal about the priest he’d seen in the courtyard the other day. “Did he arrive with the Campbells?”

His King had only smiled at him, tracing lines into his skin as he spoke. “He has come with the Campbells. They’ve asked that he is to be the one that marries our houses.”

Travis let out a snort, looking away. “A bit ironic, wouldn’t you say?” Travis thought the whole thing to be a big laugh. It was all a silly play that the nobles must put on to keep their gold in their already-too-heavy purses. And while they drank and celebrated this glorious alliance, it felt like all of them were stabbing Travis in the chest with a broadsword, mocking him in a way that he didn’t think was possible. He’d always been prideful, but to be cut so deeply by stately affairs was new to him. And this was no enemy that he could fight.

He’d fought his way through battlefields like it was a ballroom floor, but he could never quite grasp what the Court could be. He knew he fought for his King, and that was enough for him. It had always been enough for him.

And yet, this new Lady and her witch Priest were there to take him away. Whisk him off on some noble chariot and let him play the game of politics that Travis could never even begin to understand.

“What’s ironic about it?” Sal asked him, his voice cutting through the quiet air of the night.

Travis shakes his head. “A priest... I never thought you’d allow one of his kind into the Kingdom. You don’t worship the Old Gods.”

“No,” Sal agreed, laying his head on Travis’s chest. “I don’t believe in the Old Gods. The Campbells, however, worship them as they do in the South. It would be rude to take the Lady Ashley as my wife and not respect her beliefs. That’s what a good husband would do.” He pauses, lifting his head to look at the leader of his Kingsguard, fixing him with a pointed stare. “That’s what a king would do.”

Travis stares back at him, refusing to let his gaze drift. His King was just, fair, and noble, but sometimes the words that tumbled from his lips sounded like that of a child.

“And you think you make as good a husband as you would a king?” There was a bite in his voice. He couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice. He didn’t have the restraint that Sal did, and right now the ugly thoughts of the day were repeating in his head, like a cursed Siren’s song.

Sal sits up quickly then, untangling his limbs from his lovers. He sits up, back straight, to look Travis in the eyes. “I will be a _great_ husband.” Sal’s voice dropped, course as dirt. “Just as I am a great King.”

Travis’s face softened as he reached a hand up to brush a strand of Sal’s hair aside. Despite all the bitterness that he felt, he couldn’t be angry at Sal. And he couldn’t bear the thought of Sal being angry with him. He never tried to convince himself that his knighting was for the realm, that he wanted to offer the commoners protection in the name of the king. He couldn’t be bothered to pretend that he cared about any of them. There was only one person he cared about.

“You are the grandest King the realm has seen in centuries,” Travis conceded, giving Sal a small smile, trying to tame the spark that threatened to turn into a flame. “Forgive me, your Grace, if my words offended you.”

Sal rolls his eyes, settling himself back down into his lover’s arms. “You haven’t offended me.” He sighs. “And there’s no need for formalities here, Travis, you know that.”

“Forgive me.”

Sal was silent, and Travis listened as his breathing evened out. The room was dark and the night was silent, but he had trouble sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes, Travis would see the priest, standing over him. Watching him. He could hear the bells jangling in his hair, could smell the perfume he undoubtedly doused himself with. He kept having visions of this priest, along with his Lady, poisoning the mind of his king. Warping his mind until there was nothing left of the king he served.


	3. Eyes and Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited sowwy is late

The priest was watching him again. Watching him swing his sword. Watching clash with whoever was stupid enough to try and duel Travis. He could feel the eye boring into him, feel it as he moved his gaze along Travis’s body; his shoulders, his legs, his neck. It was starting to become unsettling, but the more Travis fought, the more determination to win he felt. He wanted to show off for the priest. He wanted him to see how well he could fight. How well he could defend his king. He wanted the priest to carry that information back to his mistress, maybe her whispers will spread through the court. Not that he needed them to. The people of the palace and of the city that surrounds knew him as the King’s guard dog. There are some who praise him for his loyalty, his bravery, and his patriotism. And then some say the King has his balls in his purse. Who was he to say which man was right?

But their opinions never mattered to him before... Maybe he did want the priest to look at him. To know how he fights. And as he delivers the final blow to the poor bloke who was in front of him, he could hear the crowd let out a polite cheer as he took off his helmet. 

Wiping sweat from his brow, he watched the other knights hurry over and take their brother from the dirt, carrying them off somewhere that Travis cared not. He was hesitant to look over his shoulder, to turn around and face the man with bells in his hair. He was afraid that the sun would reflect from one of his rings and blind him, or maybe he’d just catch his gaze. He didn’t know which was worse, and he was stalling moving his body. 

But he could still feel those eyes, watching him, studying him as he’d done the day before. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to know if those eyes were still on him. His head turned first, stopping halfway and peeking out of the corner of his vision. Sure enough, the priest was still standing there. His arms were crossed in front of him, his gray shawl draped over him. This Sun he was wearing blue robes instead of red. A color of his home kingdom, Travis thought, noticing the blue flags he kept seeing draped over the backs of the men’s horses. He’d have to talk to Sal about that. If they were going to be in this kingdom then they should wear the colors of this kingdom. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing someone else’s colors. 

The priest was watching him with his head tilted to the side, his earring leaning against his neck. There was a slight smile on his face, but even from this distance, Travis could see the curious glint in his eyes. It was enough to make him turn his head fully, letting the priest know that he’d been caught staring. Unlike some of the other men, who’d turn their head in respect or fear, this man did not look away. Travis figured that a holy man wouldn’t be afraid of a knight. It didn’t surprise him. The priest held his gaze, tilting his head forward, challenging him to come closer. Travis didn’t realize that his feet were moving already, traveling in way of the man who’d been staring at him all day. All of yesterday. All of the day before that.

He’d always been gone by the time Travis had landed the last blow. And when Travis thought that he would be there to dine with them, he made no appearance. Lady Ashley had told Sal that the priest likes to pray during meals. Pray that everyone is healthy.

“Pray that they don’t choke,” Sal had snorted.

Travis had never had a decent conversation with the priest. Had only glanced at him across the courtyard or as they passed in the halls. There were curt words spoken, words that one has to say. They didn’t mean anything, passing his lips as a curse would. Without thought. 

But as he drew closer, he realized that this was his chance. He’d been holding off on judging the man too harshly before they’d even got to speak, but he knew how he felt about the church. And he knew how he felt about the God this man claimed to worship. None of them were particularly pleasant.

However, this wasn’t a God. Or a Church. This was flesh and blood and bone just like he was, so he decided that his opinion would not be swayed by a little thing such as who he wants to worship.

Travis hadn’t realized that he’d reached the priest, until the man opened his mouth, showing a gaped-tooth smile. “You fault well, Sir Knight.” His voice was deeper than Sal thought it would be and raspy like he’d been smoking the churchwarden every night. 

“An honorable compliment is most appreciated, Priest.” 

The man’s smile lessens, his nose twitching at the obvious formality in Travis’s words. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I never see you in the church.” It was a statement that felt more like an accusation. Immediately, Travis’s fist clenched at his side, his sword gloves rubbing together, crunching in his palm. The priest’s eyes glanced down quickly, almost unnoticeable. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Sir-” 

“Travis.” The priest’s smile grows again, and there’s a shine in his eyes. Like the sun been put into them. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Sir Travis. I’m merely curious about you. I only meant that you don’t seem to be a religious man.” 

Travis tried to keep his voice level as he answered. “You’ve not offended me, Priest.” 

“Larry.” It was Travis’s turn to smile, having to turn his head to hide his grin. He was amused. 

Travis cleared his throat. “I’ve not been offended. You are correct in your assumption that I am not a religious man. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I must go back to my men.” 

He was done talking to the priest. He wasn’t even sure why’d he’d walked over here in the first place. He knew that all holy men and preachers were alike. He didn’t know why he even bothered in the first place.

As he was turning around, the priest reached out a bedangled hand and wrapped his jeweled finger’s around Travis’s wrists, pulling him in close to the other man so that they were breathing the same air. He could smell the man’s perfume, and he had half the mind to put this man on his silken ass. 

But the priest was whispering to him in a hurried tone. “I wonder what the people of the court would think of your relationship with the King.” 

Travis’s blood ran cold then, and he could hear the snakes in the words of this priest, feel them infecting him. The blood runneth from this man’s tongue. Travis feels like he’s been bitten. He can feel himself growing paler and paler. About to die. 

But then Sal’s face flashes in front of his mind, and where he once felt weak, all he feels is anger. How dare this priest threaten his King. How dare a foreigner with foreigner’s God come to their shores and threaten everything that he holds dear. His chest was heaving.

“If you say a word to anyone, I’ll put my sword through you.” 

Larry let out a breath through his nose. He noticed that people had started staring, although Travis was blind to only the threat. Larry pulls back, releasing Travis’s wrist. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private. I would meet you by the God’s wood.” 

Travis studied the man for a moment, wondering if he should even trust him. He couldn’t just let this man walk away. Not without figuring out how he knew. Who told him about it? Travis would make sure to use his weapon for good use. 

“I will meet you by the God’s wood, Priest,” Travis said through gritted teeth. He didn’t give the man any more time for a rebuttal. He turned on his heels and walked away.

  
  



	4. O Lord, Let Me Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis meets Larry by the Godswood.

The Godswood was a large tree that stood tall amongst the others. Where their leaves were turning red and yellow with the changing seasons, the Godswood’s leaves were pure white, staying in their places all year round, never changing their color. The bark was a striking silver, loud against the dirt and greenery of the forest. When winter fell in the kingdom and snow rained down, Travis would swear that the Godswood became invisible, the only thing giving it away being the sound of its leaves giving way to the weight of the snow. 

Travis had been under its shade for an hour now, waiting on the priest. The sun had already set, the moon casting light onto the forest floor. The Godswood seemed to glow in the moonlight like a lantern rising from the earth, giving Travis plenty of light to see that he’d bitten his nails down to the bone. His stomach was rolling as he knew this man he was about to meet was a threat. Not only against the two lovers but Sal’s very Kingdom that he’d fought so desperately to protect. And the reason for his worry came from the knowledge that this was an enemy that he could not cut down with his sword like the many that came before him. 

No, he could not fight the priest. Could not bathe his woes with blood. And so he would have to listen to whatever the holy man had to say about his relationship to the king, and surely he would have to accept whatever it was the priest wanted to keep his silence. If there was one thing that Travis had learned from Sal’s court, it was that secrets were as good as gold. Cities could be burned to the ground with one whisper from the right lips. 

But there was a growing sense of unease that the priest-- Larry-- was not to show. That he’d already told the Lady Ashley, and the two along with their entourage were riding back to their Estate, already planning on how to use this secret against the King. Already plotting on ways to turn the people against him, to dethrone him. The thought made his blood boil, and he could feel his face growing hotter. He could see his breath on the wind as he let out a huff, looking around for Larry once more. 

He was about to leave. There wasn’t a point in waiting for a man that might never show. Starting to feel foolish for even agreeing to this, Travis turned around, ready to leave the forest and return to Sal’s chambers where he might hold the other man in his arms once more before their enemies start tearing down the bricks they had worked so hard to lay together. The thought of another minute standing by this damned tree was unbearable. 

Before he could place one foot in front of the other, he heard the boot fall of another approaching, and he knew it to be the Priest by the faint smell of cloves and perfume invading his senses. The footsteps were faint and quick. If Travis had to guess, he’d say Larry was good at dancing if that was even something that a Priest did. He never thought of the devout as enjoying the festivities, but Larry’s steps were confidant and cunning as he approached the knight. 

Travis turned to look at him, cloaked in a black shall. He’d taken his bangles off and the bells out of his hair in an attempt to stay quiet. There were dark bruises under his eyes like he had not slept in days. He looked less ethereal in the dark than he did on the training grounds. Perhaps the glowing of the Godswood had shed some truth onto the Priest’s form. He looked much more like a person now, instead of some Godly enemy sent to ruin his Kingdom. 

“Sir Travis,” Larry spoke, his voice deep. Travis met his gaze, seeing a smile in his eyes as if the situation were amusing to him. Travis felt the need to grab the hilt of his sword, to draw it, and inform the man just how serious this really was. “So glad to see you’ve accepted my off to meet here.” 

“I’ve been waiting,” Travis managed to reply through gritted teeth. 

“Apologies. It wasn’t my intention to keep you waiting, Knight.”

“And what if your intention, Priest?” There was a glint of emotion on Larry’s face, schooled before Travis could read it. The priest cleared his throat, smiling at the knight before gliding over to where Travis was standing, facing the Godswood and kneeling before it. He placed a bare hand on the bark, the pads of his fingers tracing the grooves and dips in the wood. 

“Would you pray with me?” 

Travis wanted to laugh, wanted to scream, wanted to burn the entire forest down. But when the priest looked up at him, his eyes round and tired, Travis didn’t know why, but he got on his knees beside the other man. He’d like to think it was because he was scared of what he would do if Travis refused. “What would you have me pray for?” 

His heart was beating wildly, his breathing becoming harsher. He still didn’t know what he was doing here, didn’t know Larry’s motivations, didn’t know what the priest had planned for him out or in the castle. 

“For whatever you’d like, I suppose.” Larry looked away from him, bowing his head and pressing his hands harder against the tree. 

Travis wasn’t the praying type. There was no God on the battlefield. No higher power to help them through the darkness. There was only blood and mortals and death. As knights, they prayed to their King. They prayed to the firewhiskey they would drink if they got home. They prayed to their lovers in their beds. They knew of no God, and they certainly had never asked Him for anything. 

And yet, Travis felt drawn to place his hands on the silver tree, to ask for something. The bark was rough when he placed his hands against the tree. He’d expected something more, maybe a jolt? But there was just the course texture of the Godswood beneath his fingers. He thought about asking for the Priest to keep his secret, to not reveal it to anybody, but that train of thought quickly led to him wishing that everyone knew about them, that they didn’t have to hide anymore, and that there would be no danger. 

He knew it was dangerous to think like that, to have an unreasonable amount of hope. He traveled that road before and knew that it only caused pain and frustration.

“What do you pray for, Priest?” Travis asked, opening his eyes to glance over at the other man. 

Larry breathed deeply, lifting his head and letting his hands drop. Travis followed suit, both of them placing their hands on their knees. “There’s a couple of things I pray for. I pray for my Lady’s health. I pray for rain for the crops. I pray that the foals are born strong and fast, and I pray that the hunters bring home the fattest hog. Sometimes I pray for the weak and the sick, those who can’t pray for themselves, or just--” He looked Travis up and down. “--the one’s who don’t want to.”

“You still haven’t told me why you’ve asked to meet me here.” He didn’t want to avoid the topic any longer. He didn’t want to pray any longer. He wanted to know what the Priest knew and whether he could be trusted or not. Travis never was intrigued with the formalities of appearances, never one to dance around the issue. 

“I thought it best that we continue our previous discussion somewhere more private.” It’s like he was seeing how far he could push the knight before he snapped. “I believe we were talking about your relationship with the king.” Travis couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw, his fingers itching for the sword strapped to his hip. “The same King that my Lady is supposed to marry in the coming days. You can see why I would find this troublesome.” 

“And what proof have you of this?” Travis spat, hoping in vain that the priest would simply forget about all of this and leave them be. 

“I don’t need proof, Sir Travis.” Larry smiled. “I have no intention of informing the Lady about this affair.” 

His mouth went slack, eyes widening in surprise. He could feel his shoulders drop as if his muscles had released all of their energy, sore like he’d just come from war. He didn’t think it that easy to surprise him, but the priest had done it twice in a day’s time. “You’re not going to tell her?” 

Larry shook his head. “No, I thought better of it. This alliance is very beneficial for both houses. It wouldn’t do either of us any good if I were to just go shouting it for everyone to hear.” The priest chuckled to himself. “Sal is a strong King, and I don’t think any different because of his relationship with you.” 

“Then why have you brought me all the way out here? Just to tell me that I have your holy blessing?” Spite was still fresh in his mind, even more so now that the supposed threat was subdued for the time being. 

“Sir Knight, how do you think I found out about you two?” The question was asked with such innocence that Travis was about to respond until he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure how the priest came to find out about the pair. It wasn’t even something he’d really considered. “I watched the two of you. Saw the way you looked at each other. The gentle caresses when you think there is no one looking in your direction.” Larry heaved a sigh before standing, Travis rushing to follow him. “Love makes you do foolish things, but you cannot be so foolish as to think that no one is looking at the King. Someone is always looking.” 

Travis can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, and he doesn’t know what to say. What can be said for this? If the priest, who had only arrived a couple of days ago, could figure out the relationship between the two, then God knows how many people in the court knew of them. How many eyes had witnessed them? How many lips have his name passed through? He doesn’t want to think of it. It makes him feel sick, faint. 

“Forgive me if I’ve upset you,” Larry started, averting his gaze from Travis. Something must’ve shown on his face to give away his current state of mind. 

“How many people know?” He hated that his voice shook with the question. He wanted to hold as much conviction as he did when he was leading his men, but in the face of such an unfamiliar danger, he was faltering, unable to be the strong protector if only for this one instance. 

“I don’t believe anyone but me has any idea about the two of you. Yet.” The priest tried to offer a calming smile, but Travis was not looking at him anymore. He’d set his eyes upon the Godswood. “Do not be frightened, Sir Knight,” Larry continued, his voice becoming softer. “While you both aren’t subtle, the people of the court do not have my eyes. They are pliant, willing to listen to whatever they’re told, and agree with it. They do not look at such things as closely, and things--” Larry reached out a hand, grabbing onto Travis’s arm. “--such as a brush of the hands goes unnoticed. It is nothing to them.” 

Travis yanked his arm away, eyes burning as they glared at the priest. “And what is it you? What do you gain from any of this?” 

“I’m just trying to do what’s right by my Lady. If you two are caught, her name and status are attached to it. I’m simply here to warn you to be more discreet.” Larry took a step closer, eyes glancing around to the trees that surrounded them before they settled back on Travis. “There are people who would see both of our houses buried, and they will not stop until they see it all burned.” 

“I’ve defeated the last houses of the rebellion. There are no more who would oppose the king.” He tried to keep his breathing level. 

“You’ve defeated the houses, yes. The men who hold the armies, but the spirit of the rebellion is far from dead. They are weak, looking for anything that would give them an advantage. Don’t let that be you.” 

“How do you know all of this? You talk of the rebellion like you’re a part of it.” Suspicions were starting to sprout in his head. He didn’t know the holy man or his past. Didn’t know where his loyalties lied. Didn’t know anything but his name and what he prayed for when he knelt. 

Larry laughed again, reminding Travis just how aloof the priest was about it all. “I’m a priest of the Old Gods. The Gods that your king decided to separate from his Kingdom. The men fighting against you in the rebellion were, all of them, disciples. I, myself, was never part of any battle, and I never held any political beliefs until I found my way into Lady Ashley’s court. 

“Before that, I was living in a church. We housed the sick, the wounded from battle. I prayed over the ones who would get better, and I prayed over the ones who would die. And they all spoke of how they’d fought, and how they would keep fighting until their Gods were worshiped once more.

“But your king doesn’t believe in the Old Gods, doesn’t believe that religion of any sort should persuade his decisions, that it shouldn’t hold relevance in the battle strategies and tactics used against his enemies. He’d much rather worship the knowledge gained from healers and blacksmiths and foragers. He’d see the world for what it is and not what we’d like it to be.

“To answer your question in short, no. I was never a part of the rebellion, but I had close ties to it for obvious reasons. And now I am here, trying to warn you about the people who would see you burn on a pyre for what you and the King are doing. If there’s anything you can take away from this conversation, I want it to be that you’ve got to be more secretive with your antics. There’s always someone watching the king.”

Travis let the priest’s voice wash over him, his anger seeping out of him with every word. He didn’t want anything to keep a secret, he was trying to protect all of them. Trying to stop something horrible from happening before it had even been thought about. “I’m at a loss for words, Priest,” Travis replied softly. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Larry whispered back. “Just keep him safe, and when the wedding comes and goes, she will be placed in your care as well as him. Keep them both safe. That’s all I ask. I do not care or wish to reveal your relationship with the King to anyone. I hope I’ve gained your trust if anything this evening.” 

Travis didn’t say anything. While the priest was nice enough to share his guidance and warn him of the dangers that could lie ahead, trust was something Travis didn’t take lightly. He only trusted one man, the man he loved. 

“Only time will tell, priest. I thank you for this evening.” Travis nodded his head, curtly, ending their conversation. The knight turned on his heels before Larry could say anything more. His head was spinning, and he needed time to think about everything that had been said. 

But in the end, he couldn’t give the priest what he was looking for after all. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> lmao, i know nobody wanted this but I need more medieval shit.


End file.
